It’s Just A Number

I still have not had a chance to stand on the scale again. I keep trying to find a way to sneak in to the bathroom whilst the munchkin is doing her homework but thing is the scale is in her parent’s bathroom and I normally use the guest one. I generally use a lack of loo paper as the excuse and sneak in, quickly shoving off my coat and winter boots and standing on the scale; all in split seconds whilst the loo is flushing so she doesn’t hear anything. I then run the tap and redress.

I was so desperate yesterday that I even thought of messaging my gran to ask if I could come stand on her scale and give some excuse about needing to check my weight because the doctor asked due to my missing periods, or because I’m worried about my weight or something equally as lame and depressing. The whole thing is depressing. I am positively itching to stand on a scale and feel like I may explode if I don’t. In the meantime the 57kg’s sticks in my head and I walk around feeling like a beached whale under all my winter layers. And this constant hunger which I have suddenly developed is driving me completely loopy! I NEED to eat, I can feel my body screaming at me. I don’t normally have this problem, I rarely feel hungry and I hate food, I hate the texture and the feeling of it in my stomach. I don’t enjoy eating on any level, but now all I want to do is eat. I refuse to sit down and eat a whole meal which means I am nibbling a lot of random crap: a rusk here, a slice of bread there, a few cubes of pear, a pretzel stick; and this all just makes me feel like I’m eating non stop.

I ate supper tonight. A chicken leg, some extra meat off the thigh, about 2/3 of a cup roast veggies (I couldn’t even blot the olive oil as we had guests over) and then a cup of green tea followed by not 1 but 2 chocolate digestive biscuits. I’m lying here and I can feel the empty grumbling in my stomach and I want to eat more but I WON”T. I would sooner chew off my own leg than stuff any more food in my face. I’m performing tomorrow night, singing at a fancy local restaurant and I think I’m more terrified of the skin tight dress I am wearing than the fact that I am standing up on stage exposed to a room full of people.

I keep thinking of the 53kg’s I saw on the scale and wishing that I hadn’t stepped on again the next day and seen 57kg’s. I want to be 53kg’s. I felt such exhilaration! And now I just feel disgust. Why is my body insisting on hanging on to this fat?? I need a scale. I need to buy one of my own so I don’t have to do this to myself.

I need to go to bed and not think. Perhaps if I don’t eat breakfast tomorrow my stomach will forget to kick start itself.

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